


What Happens in the Lincoln Bedroom Stays in the Lincoln Bedroom

by abluestocking



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Banter, Extra Treat, F/F, F/M, Foursome, Foursome - F/F/M/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8409544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abluestocking/pseuds/abluestocking
Summary: “I can’t believe we’re doing this in the Lincoln Bedroom,” Josh said, scratching the back of his head nervously.Matt gestured around at the four of them. “All this, and what you’re hung up on is the specific bedroom involved?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



> I've never been brave enough to write this foursome before, but your letter was so amazing, weakinteraction, that I just had to try. :) I hope you enjoy this treat!

“I can’t believe we’re doing this in the _Lincoln Bedroom_ ,” Josh said, scratching the back of his head nervously.

Matt gestured around at the four of them. “All this, and what you’re hung up on is the specific _bedroom_ involved?”

“I’m just saying. If this ever got out, I think the right wing media would be most upset about the Lincoln thing.”

“You don’t think the right-wing media would be more interested in the fact that the President and First Lady are flagrantly and homosexually fornicating with their Chiefs of Staff?” 

“Well,” Josh said, pulling a face, “when you put it like _that_ …”

“ _I_ think,” Helen said, pushing past both of them and sitting down heavily on the bed, “that Lincoln would enjoy the idea. He probably didn’t get a lot of sex during his time in the White House – too busy saving the Union and all that. His ghost is probably watching us right now, just waiting for all these pretty people to take their clothes off.”

“Please don’t talk about Abraham Lincoln watching me take my clothes off,” Josh said, weakly.

Donna rolled her eyes. You’d think they’d never done this before. 

She slipped her heels off and set them neatly under the bed, out of the way (she wouldn’t put it past Josh to trip over them, otherwise). Then she sat on the bed next to Helen and reached out a hand to draw her into a soft, gentle kiss.

“Fuck,” Matt said, devout, and Donna deepened the kiss, giving them a show. She liked to be watched, whoever she was kissing; she liked the element of show involved and the feeling of power. 

“Your turn, boys,” Helen said, when she and Donna broke apart. Her lipstick was smudged, and Donna found a tissue in the nightstand for her. 

“I don’t know if we can equal that. And I’m also not sure I qualify as a boy,” Josh said. “I do my own taxes and everything.”

“You do not do your own taxes, Joshua,” Donna said. “Now kiss the President already.”

Matt grinned at Josh. “I like it when she gets bossy.”

“You like it when anyone gets bossy,” Josh started to tell him, but Matt wisely shut him up with a kiss.

“Our boys are pretty damn hot,” Helen said to Donna, after a minute.

Watching Matt manhandle Josh against the wall, shoving a thigh between his legs and kissing him fast and deep – hearing Josh moan and shove a rough hand into Matt’s hair – feeling Helen’s fingers trace a shivery path across the back of her hand – Donna knew exactly what she meant.

“Yes, they are,” she agreed, and turned to push Helen down among the pillows, straddling her and leaning in for the kiss.

Later, the President of the United States would bury his face between her legs, the First Lady would lavish attention on her nipples, and her own awkwardly sweet boyfriend would kiss her just the way she liked best to be kissed (the result of months of careful training), sending Donna into the most blissful of sensory overloads.

For now, Donna kissed Helen, and enjoyed every moment.

“You know,” she told Helen, rolling off onto her side, “I loved the Bartlet White House. But I’m really starting to enjoy the Santos White House too.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Matt said, pulling Josh over towards the bed.

“Can we please not talk about President Bartlet while we’re having sex?” Josh asked, plaintively.

“There’s only one President in this bed, and it’s me,” Matt said, obligingly. 

“Why, Mr. President,” Helen cooed, and giggled. 

Sometimes Donna thought it was a miracle they ever managed to get around to actually fucking, what with the tangents, the banter, and the middle-of-the-night phone calls to come down to the Oval Office and sort out the latest international crisis. 

But it was worth it when they did; and really, Donna thought (as Matt detoured behind Josh to come and kiss her, and Helen started unbuttoning Josh’s shirt), it all went to make up the rich tapestry that was the four of them.

Donna wouldn’t give up a single moment of it for the world.

~//~


End file.
